


Lost and Found

by Anysia



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Orphans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:43:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anysia/pseuds/Anysia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His adventure with Anna wasn’t the first time Kristoff had a run-in with wolves. (Angstfic, baby!Kristoff background.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a combination of things: Jennifer Lee confirming via Twitter that Kristoff was orphaned sometime before the events of the film, canonical materials stating that Sven was injured and alone when Kristoff found him as a baby, and a headcanon on Tumblr regarding Kristoff's parents possibly being attacked by wolves.

Mama holds him tight against her chest, her breath short and panicked as they stand amid a flurry of snapping teeth and low growls as they move closer, these hunched, slavering silhouettes, shadowed and long-limbed in the light of the overturned lantern, and he tries to turn his head, to find Papa, and his breath catches as he _sees_ because Papa is strong, Papa is brave, why is he _falling_ like that…

 

One of the wolves darts forward, snaps its jaws and catches Mama’s cloak, and she stumbles, hesitates, before running a hand through his soft blond hair and holding him so tight that it nearly hurts before she lifts him in one strong arm and _throws_ him, as he tumbles over and _down_ , down down down as the shadows descend behind him and he hears screaming and doesn’t know if it’s her voice or his, desperate and terrified as he tries to gain his feet, slips, falls, and he knows even before he tries to get back to her that it’s too late.

 

The growls settle into a low, contented rumbling as the wolves dip their heads, flashes of bone-white teeth shining in the darkness, and he hears a sharp, sickening crack of bone echo through the still night air.

 

One of the shadows lolls its head towards him, levels him with hostile eyes glowing gold in the night, and he can barely see through his tears but he knows he has to _run_ , between the dark, towering trees, over the snowpack, as fast as his legs can carry him but he’s still so _little_ and he’s still so awkward and graceless over ice and snow because Papa was supposed to teach him and take him harvesting when he was a little older, just a little, he’d promised, he’d _promised_ …

 

The growls fade into the night, but still he runs, pushing his little boots through the snow, tears freezing against his cheeks, and he’s crying and running because he doesn’t know what else to do.

 

A dark shape rises up above him on the path, and he gasps, tumbles, falls as it lumbers towards him, and he inhales on a sharp, fearful, hiccuping sob and curls in on himself, ducks his head in against his chest and just waits for it, waits for it…

 

There’s a gentle tug at his hair, a cold but friendly lick at his cheek.

 

He slowly opens one eye to see a baby reindeer standing over him, so young its antlers are still velvet nubs, and it blinks wide, soft-brown eyes at him.

 

"You’re not a wolf," he says, obviously, voice rough with tears, and the reindeer tilts its head at him and takes a wobbly step before falling to its knees, and he gasps at the sight of the angry red bite marks along its flank, deep and awful.

 

"Did they get you, too?" he asks, hesitating before awkwardly patting the reindeer’s neck, and it must be in pain but it nuzzles against him, and it’s somehow enough, just enough to still his tears, just for now.

 

"Here," he says quietly, reaching down with his free hand to scoop up a handful of snow and press it carefully to the reindeer’s wounds. It starts, frightened, hurt, but he talks to it quietly, reassuringly, and it settles, staring at him with expectant trust.

 

"Mama used to do this for Papa," he tells the reindeer, smoothing over the snow, "when he got hurt harvesting. Before they…" He can’t say it, the images still pressing tight and vivid behind his eyes, and he turns his face in against the reindeer’s fur, his small shoulders shaking with dry sobs.

 

The reindeer gently buts against his shoulder, and he raises his head, lips turning up into a small, teary smile as he rubs its neck comfortingly.

 

"Thanks, Kristoff," he says in what he imagines would be the reindeer’s voice, and his own voice is weak and rough from crying but it helps, just a little, to have a friend. "That feels a lot better."


End file.
